Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
Ethan stood under the spray, the water cascading over his skin in steady, rhythmic pulses.
Steam swirled, thick and suffocating around him. The scent of body wash—a sharp, citrusy tang softened by something floral—mingled with the heat, curling upward and settling into the damp air.
He closed his eyes, letting the water drum against his back like a relentless percussion, each drop pounding out the tension knotted in his muscles. The ache in his skull, an insistent reminder of last night.
The glass stall rattled faintly as he shifted his weight, the frame streaked with soap scum and condensation. The noise should have been lost beneath the hiss of the water, but Ethan noticed, just as he noticed the way his body felt wrecked.
His ass throbbed, a deep, bruised soreness lingering from Logan’s thrusts. A phantom pressure haunted him, vivid and visceral, making him wince as he adjusted under the spray.
Every inch of him felt raw and overworked, muscles groaning in protest as though they’d been through a grinder.
The creak of the bathroom door shattered his sanctuary, and Ethan froze, soap slipping from his fingers with a soft thunk at his feet. His heart crept to his throat as he turned to the sound.
The hinges whined and then came Devon’s voice: rough-edged but carrying a cheerful ease that cut through the water like a blade. “You okay in there?” he asked casually, like he already knew the answer and was just waiting for Ethan to confirm it.
Ethan blinked, swiping his eyes as soap threatened to sting them. “Uh… yeah.” His voice came out uneven, caught between surprise and embarrassment. “I won’t be a minute,” he stammered.
Devon’s silhouette loomed through the fogged-up glass as he leaned against the door with a kind of casual confidence that made Ethan feel exposed—despite the barrier of frosted glass between them.
“Coffee’s ready,” he said after a moment, and though his words were simple enough, there was something in the way he said them that was heavy with meaning.
His gaze didn’t falter, and Ethan could feel it even without seeing it.
“You know,” Devon added after a beat, a slow smile curling across his lips as steam swirled around him. “I gotta tell you… you’ve got a really great body, perfect physique.”
Ethan stilled, every nerve suddenly hyper-aware. He didn’t know what to say—or even if he should say anything at all.
There was something intrusive about Devon standing there, his bold stare unapologetic. Where Logan’s gaze had been tender and intimate, Devon’s made him feel vulnerable in an entirely different way.
“Uh… thanks?” he finally managed, though it came out more like a question.
Devon chuckled, then pushed off the door with an easy grace that belied his size. As he turned to leave, Ethan caught a glimpse of him through the haze, his broad shoulders disappearing into the bedroom.
Once he was alone again, Ethan exhaled—though relief wasn’t exactly what he felt. There was something else mixed in—the faintest flicker of… What? Gratification? Desire?
He hated that it even stirred his gut.
Shutting off the water, he grabbed the clean towel hanging on the rack. The white cotton was rough against his skin as he dried off hastily.
Avoiding thoughts about Devon or what had just happened, he padded back into the bedroom.
Devon was in the kitchen by the time Ethan emerged—a space so small that his presence seemed to fill it entirely.
He stood by the counter nursing a mug of coffee, steam curling lazily upward from the surface. When he saw Ethan, towel wrapped tightly around his waist and hair dripping onto bare shoulders, he reached for another mug. “Here,” he said simply as he poured coffee into it and handed it over.
“So,” he continued after a long moment of silence. “You and Logan… how’s that whole thing going?”
The ceramic was warm against Ethan’s palm, and when he took a tentative sip, bitterness bloomed across his tongue. Black coffee wasn’t usually his thing, but right now it felt reassuring. He glanced up quickly before looking away—anywhere but at those sharp eyes that seemed intent on peeling back layers until there was nothing left hidden.
“It’s… okay,” he said, though even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.
Devon leaned an elbow against the counter and tilted his head, as if studying Ethan from a new angle might reveal something more. “Just okay?” he pressed, light but persistent.
Ethan shrugged, then forced what he hoped passed for a casual smile. “You know how these things are.”
Devon’s expression said he didn’t know, and Ethan felt cornered by his gaze. The truth was messier than anything he could articulate right now: Logan’s silence since last night had left him adrift, but discussing it with Devon… it felt like betrayal. As though speaking aloud about what they’d shared would shatter any connection that still existed between them.
Before Devon could probe further or before Ethan could stumble through another half-lie, his phone buzzed.
Giving you a heads up… Target package dropped. Get your ass here.
Brick. The message felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on Ethan’s head.
Devon’s brows knitted tightly as he placed his coffee cup beside Ethan’s. He breathed out slowly, his tone almost too casual. “Sure… I know how it is.” But even as the words rolled off his tongue, his eyes lingered on Ethan’s face. There was something behind them, a flicker of darker thoughts that seemed to cut like the edge of a blade grazing skin.
Ethan shifted and moved toward the door, gesturing as if to usher him out. The air in the hallway always felt different—stale and cool against his exposed skin. The faint draft brushed over his shoulders, then sneaked up under the towel slung low around his hips.
He glanced at Devon as he reached the door. “Thanks for last night. I really appreciate it.” Ethan’s voice carried a note of sincerity despite the awkwardness, and he hesitated for a split second before adding a weak chuckle designed to lighten the mood. “Maybe I could buy you a beer when I’m back… just one this time.”
The laugh didn’t quite land the way he hoped.
Devon paused, leaning slightly against the door. His massive frame seemed to block out what little light spilled from the stairwell beyond, and for a moment, he just stood there, studying Ethan. His dark eyes trailed languidly downward.
Ethan swallowed. Devon’s eyes seemed like those of a predator sizing up prey. They dragged over his chest with deliberate slowness, lingering on every curve and dip of muscle before dipping lower still to where the towel still clung precariously to his hips.
“You’re staring,” Ethan said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. He’d been trying to sound annoyed but couldn’t quite manage it. There was something in Devon’s stare that made him feel exposed in ways a flimsy towel couldn’t protect against.
Devon didn’t answer. He moved without warning, his hand darting forward, lightning striking its mark, catching Ethan off guard as it closed over him through the thin layer of cotton.
“Whoa—” Ethan gasped, stumbling back half a step as Devon’s grip held firm. The shock stole his breath, leaving him frozen in place. Heat surged through him—heat born of both embarrassment and something far more primal.
Devon’s lips curved up into a smug smile, full of triumph. “Were you flirting with me just now, Ethan Parker?” His voice taunted, each word laced with a dangerous kind of amusement that made Ethan’s pulse quicken.
Devon’s fingers tightened, sliding along Ethan’s growing erection—a much rougher touch than Logan’s, but oddly… electrifying.
Ethan’s body was betraying him. His cock stiffened fully under Devon’s unrelenting hand, blood rushing southward even as his mind screamed for control.
He hated how obvious it was—how much power Devon seemed to have. “Stop,” he finally managed, though it came out more like a plea than an order.
Devon chuckled, but didn’t immediately let go. Instead, he leaned in, breath warm against Ethan’s ear, and murmured, “You know… you should drop by the spa when you’re back.” His free hand grazed Ethan’s shoulder briefly before retreating. “I’ll give those muscles of yours a real going-over.” He pulled back enough to meet Ethan’s wide-eyed stare and added a smirk that practically dripped arrogance. “Then you can buy me a beer after—a way to say thanks.”
Ethan blinked, trying to process what had just happened. “Uh… yeah,” he stammered, trying to form words through the haze clouding his thoughts. “I’ll…” he swallowed, “I’ll think about it.”
Devon released him, then stepped back with an air of satisfaction. It was as though he’d won some unspoken game Ethan hadn’t realized they were playing. His dark gaze lingered for another beat before shifting. “What I told you last night,” he began, folding his arms in a way that only emphasized their size, “though you might not remember… Logan’s not the hearts-and-flowers type. If you’re looking for more than a casual fuck,” he continued bluntly, “he won’t deliver.”
Ethan frowned but said nothing. He too crossed his arms—not defensively but a more instinctive reaction to feeling cornered. “I’m not looking for serious,” he shot back, a little too quickly, perhaps. His tone was firmer, but he took another step back into the safety of his apartment, and away from whatever game Devon seemed intent on playing. “And I have no idea where things are going with Logan, but I’m enjoying it for what it is right now.” He paused briefly before adding, “Thanks for the concern.”
Devon shrugged, unfazed by Ethan’s deflection or maybe even amused by it. “Okay,” he said, still wearing that maddening fucking smirk—the one that made it impossible to tell whether he meant anything he said or if he was just testing boundaries for fun. “But,” he added, stepping closer again, “I guess that’s why you didn’t stop me last night when I did this…”
His hand shot out, fingers tangling in the damp curls at the nape of Ethan’s neck. His grip wasn’t gentle, it was firm, commanding, and left no room for protest.
He yanked Ethan forward, their mouths colliding in a bruising kiss, hard and unyielding.
Devon’s tongue surged past Ethan’s lips, invading his mouth with an insistence that spoke volumes. This wasn’t a question; it was a statement.
The bitter taste of coffee mingled with something primal, and as Devon’s breath ghosted Ethan’s face, his mind blanked. Every thought he had derailed, and his body stiffened like a live wire caught in a current. Muscles locked in place, and for one frantic, stuttering beat, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
But then the shock gave way to instinct.
With a guttural grunt, he shoved back, palms slamming into Devon’s chest with all the force he could muster. The impact reverberated up his arms as he tore himself free from the kiss, staggering back a step.
Air rushed into his lungs in ragged gasps as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scrubbing away the lingering taste of Devon.
“This isn’t happening,” he snapped, his voice cracking under the strain of his frayed nerves. He glared at Devon, eyes wide and wild, like a cornered animal desperate for escape.
But Devon—damn him—he didn’t flinch. Hell, he didn’t even seem fazed by the outburst or the shove that had sent him stumbling half a step back. Instead, he smiled. A slow, creeping smirk that curled at one corner of his mouth like smoke rising from a smoldering fire. It was insidious, a predator’s grin.
“Oh, but it will,” he said, his tone completely confident as though they were discussing a foregone conclusion rather than a possibility. He straightened his shirt where Ethan’s shove had rumpled it and closed the space he’d fought to create. “Maybe not today…” he continued, “but you’ll be back—you’re curious.”
Ethan opened his mouth to deny it outright, but the words caught in his throat, and when Devon tilted his head to one side, it was as if he could see right through every flimsy denial he might attempt.
“You want this,” Devon pressed, leaning in just enough that Ethan could feel the heat radiating off him. “You know it. I know it.” He then stepped back, giving Ethan enough space to breathe again. Mercy only made him more dangerous. “I can wait ’til you’re ready,” he finished.
He leaned in and brushed a kiss on Ethan’s cheek. It was soft, almost tender, a stark contrast to the one before. But any illusion of gentleness shattered when Devon’s hand darted down to Ethan’s ass and gave a squeeze that felt less like flirtation and more like claiming territory.
“I’ll see you around, little bear.” He turned on his heel and strolled through the door without glancing back.
The door clicked shut, and for a long moment, Ethan just stood there, stunned into silence.
His arms hung limp at his sides while his mind struggled to process everything that just happened.
The heat of Devon’s touch still ghosted his skin like an unwelcome branding.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he leaned against the door for support. Tilting his head back, it thunked against the wood while his heart hammered in his chest.
His breathing came in shallow gasps punctuated by shaky inhales, and no matter how hard he tried to steady it, it refused to calm down.
“What the actual fuck…?” he whispered, confusion swirling like storm clouds gathering on the horizon—dark and turbulent and impossible to ignore.
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut—the memory of Devon’s smirk seared into his mind, too bright to forget; the sound of his voice echoing in his ears with maddening clarity.
“You need this… You want it.”
He shook his head. The thing that scared him more than Devon’s aggression, or even those damn words… was the heat curling low in his gut and the way his body was betraying him, his cock twitching traitorously.
With a frustrated growl that sounded more animal than human, Ethan slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wood as though it could somehow shield him from everything.
The towel slipped from his waist, and he buried his face in trembling hands. His head was spinning, not just from last night’s hangover but from something far worse: desire tangled with fear so tightly that he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Fuck.